


Whisky Tales - Pool

by BurntWhisky1



Series: Whisky Tales [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Public Sex, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 03:44:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8188340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurntWhisky1/pseuds/BurntWhisky1
Summary: A game of  pool gets Dean adorably hot and bothered.A series of one shots, each featuring a Winchester.





	

**Author's Note:**

> They are not mine. They never will be, only in my daydreams. I won't be making any cash or gaining any fame. I'm borrowing them for your entertainment, and mine!  
> All rights belong to Kripke, CW and anyone else who has official ownership.

The bar is busy when they get there and Sam points out they're lucky to get the little corner booth. Dean doesn't really care, so long as he's got a good view of the bar and gets a long, cold beer.

He lets Sam order while he checks out the customers, in particular the female ones. There are a few possibilities that may lead to some good times, so he's happy enough to down his beer, smirking at Sam through a moustache of foam.

"Dude, you're err…" Sam is gesturing at his lip and Dean wipes the foam away with his cuff. "I'll get the next beer," he says, eyes fixing on a red-head at the far end of the bar. Sam sighs, resigned; Dean knows he wants him to stay, discuss the case, but the case is the last thing he wants to think about right now. He feels a little guilty, but only a little.

The red-head is taken already. She's hot, but not worth a fight and when he spots the little gold band around her finger Dean knows it would be a waste of time anyway.

The blonde and the raven-haired gothic type go the same way, girlfriend and diamond ring respectively, which all leads to him sinking rather gloomily onto a bar stool and ordering a "beer, whisky chaser, keep 'em coming"

The girl next to him is smiling sympathetically, pushes the salted peanuts in his direction. "Not your lucky night huh?"

He's a little surprised, considers being offended, but decides the smile in her eyes takes away any sting, so he grins and winks at her instead. Her eyes widen, all blue eyes and thick dark-blonde lashes, but she doesn't look away. Suddenly he notices her lips are full; she's chewing at the bottom one a little and it's kind of hot.

"So," he tries, "My luck 'bout to change, sweetheart?"

She laughs outright at that, raising her glass to him as they toss down their shots. "In your dreams," she says, "I'm not that kind of girl."

But there's something in the swell of her breasts against her t-shirt that makes him wish she was, so he lets his smile stretch and uses the full intensity of his green eyes. He waits until a little blush starts at the base of her throat and then lowers his chin, keeping eye contact through his lashes.

It has the desired effect, but he's not expecting the lurch in his gut when her mouth opens a little and her tongue flickers along her teeth; he feels his breathing quicken unexpectedly and shifts uncomfortably on his seat, suddenly warm around the ears.

She spins her glass away. "You're restless, how about we play a game of pool?"

He tosses down the last of his whisky, runs a tongue over his bottom lip. "I'll win," he says, quietly confident.

"Maybe." She slips down off the stool and past him, letting her hand trail along the taut stretch of his jeans across his thigh. He swallows thickly and follows, shucking off his jacket and throwing it at Sam as they pass by. Sam huffs at him, shaking his head and returning to his book.

She's not dressed to impress, just jeans, boots, t-shirt, but when she bends over the pool table there's something about the way the pockets outline her ass that takes his breath away and suddenly the game is on.

She breaks, downs a few and they dance around the table; a smile here, a light brush of a hand or a hip there. Then she misses some easy shots. He offers to help, of course, any excuse to stretch himself over her. For a moment he really is trying to show her how to make the shot, but then she looks back over her shoulder at him and somehow that makes her spine fit flush against the muscles of his chest and her butt presses against him just so…

His pool game goes right out the window after that; it's hard enough just controlling his breathing and he's really glad the bar is dimly lit. She knows of course, so suddenly her hips gain an extra sway and he can't take his eyes off them.

His jeans are getting kind of tight and he really needs to stay at the far side of the table, away from the other customers, so he misses his next shot. He wants to think it was on purpose, but his hands are shaking so much the pool-cue is waving all over the place anyway.

She plays on, slowly, making the game spin out, making sure she brushes against him every time she passes. He know his eyes are wide and his mouth is hanging open; he's really no idea why she's getting to him but he can't stop his heart from thudding and his mouth going dry. His groin is aching and his jeans are so stretched he thinks they might burst.

Suddenly she's right in front of him, looking directly up into his eyes. "I need a long one," she murmurs and her breasts press up against him briefly as she reaches past and takes another cue. She stays there a moment, sort of grinds her hips against him and crap, he actually, damn well, groans. When she pulls away he has to lean up the wall because his knees are shaking and it's all he can do not to throw her on the pool table, right there in front of everyone, and just fuck her senseless.

She wins the game, of course, and he can't even say anything, just grins breathlessly and tries to stop staring.

So she smirks and walks right up to him and pushes him back against that wall again; he can feel the whole length of her pressed against him and he can't stop himself taking her hips in his hands and pulling her closer.

"Do I get a winner's kiss?" she purrs and he understands, far too late, that he has met his match in this girl. She winds her hand around his neck, grips the short hair at the back of his head and pulls his face down to hers. He licks his lips, doesn't have time to breath because she's already kissing him and her tongue is just… everywhere. He bucks against her and she wraps her tongue around his; he's glad the music is loud because he can hear himself moaning into her mouth and he doesn't even care if anyone can see any more because he's almost past the point where he has any control at all.

Suddenly her hand is between them, just briefly, a stroke or two on the outside of his pants and she bites his bottom lip and something fucking unbelievable happens. It hasn't happened to him since he was a teenager; it's a good job her mouth is covering his and she's pressing him into the wall because his groin pulses white hot and he thinks he might have screamed and he would definitely have fallen. She holds him there a while, kissing him back down to reality, sensing when his knees can take his weight.

Then she pulls away, strokes his face fondly. "Told you I wasn't that kind of girl," she says sweetly. She takes a couple of steps back, gives him a really gorgeous smile through her kiss-bruised lips. "You are stunning though, so if I was…" She winks at him and just like that she's gone, slipping through the crowd by the bar and out the door.

He has to stand there for quite a while, trying to pull himself together, wondering what the hell just happened and hoping Sam comes to his rescue. There is actually no way he can walk through that crowd now without his jacket; he's starting to think he may have to stay in the shadows all night when Sam spots him and comes over.

"Hey man." He looks puzzled because Dean is all by himself and that's not normal. "You want to order some fries or somethin'?"

Dean grabs his jacket, holds it in front of him. "I need to go," he blurts. Sam stares and then Sam smirks as he catches on.

"Shut the fuck up," growls Dean, scowling as he pushes his way out of the bar.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments, please don't be shy ;-)


End file.
